


Before The War Began (Between Us)

by aesterismo



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aesterismo/pseuds/aesterismo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At age fifteen, Kise Ryouta discovered for the first time in his life that some forms of love are inexplicable and others, when you look back on how they began, had a very obvious beginning - and ending.  Title and content inspired by Vienna Teng's "Antebellum" as well as the Kaijou vs Touou match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before The War Began (Between Us)

 

The name circulated before he learned to associate a face.

A rising star.  A veritable golden boy.  He loved basketball, the hearsay spread, more than life itself.  Some rumors claimed he was of mixed descent, his charisma too ‘out of this world’ to be believed.

Ryouta couldn’t find it in him to believe any of it.

Then - sudden impact.

The aftershock wave rode out with a slight wince.

The eager apology and the easy gait toward him.

His _eyes,_ Ryouta thought the moment he turned to see the boy in question - he imagined them sharp, focused, unkind and cold _._

Aomine Daiki, Ryouta discovers in the week to follow (after tossing up his options, running through the motions, pretending he was only passing by the courts on a whim, and then seeing for himself what all the fuss was about), was everything but what he expected.

Daiki had pet theories for everything.  For someone who had energy bursting at the seams, he was a surprisingly philosophical sort, a thinker trapped in an athlete’s body.  When he wasn’t waxing near poetry to the others in the first string, he was staying back after practice to play matches with Ryouta.

That was another funny thing about Daiki: he never once refused Ryouta anything.  Ever.

At first, Ryouta wasn’t sure how to act around him.  After all, how on earth was Ryouta supposed to explain why he wanted to join the basketball team so badly in the first place?  He supposed that the story of how he went up to the coaches and practically begged for a chance to be a part of the team, any string that had a place available - that part was true.  The perfect timing of another player on the first string getting kicked out a month following his enlistment to the second string - that was also true, though he’d heard enough rumors about the wild things Haizaki had done to get himself kicked out in the first place.  He showed them how easily he could pick up on the sport, caught the attention of the first string captain, Akashi Seijuurou, and secured his place among the Teikou regulars.  Simply as that.

Except as time went on, Ryouta began to question his own motivations for joining the team.  Sure, it started out as curiosity in the face of boredom, as admiration turned into a near obsessive desire to challenge Daiki and try to prove himself worthy of standing among the ranks of players who were worlds ahead of him in ability and specialization.

But lately, Ryouta began to wonder just what he was trying to prove.

“You’re trying to beat yourself, right?”  Daiki brought up the possibility one day at the end of their drills, wiping sweat from his glistening jawline.  “That’s what I always figured, anyway.”

Ryouta shrugged, urging the lactic buildup along with a deliberate stretch of his arms overhead.  “Hmmm.  I never really thought of it that way, but I guess I am.  Probably won’t ever get there, though.”

“Don’t say that,” retorted Daiki, who seemed genuinely scandalized at the remark.  “You’re already making real progress, Kise.  If you give up now, you’re giving up on yourself!”  A damp towel came flying at his face, making him yelp in surprise.  When he flung it away from his line of vision, Daiki’s face seemed to glow with the spirited grin on his face.  “So don’t give up, y’hear?  Do it for me, if nothing else.”

(At age fifteen, Kise Ryouta discovered for the first time in his life that some forms of love are inexplicable and others, when you look back on how they began, had a very obvious beginning - and ending.)

 

* * *

 

The funny thing about Kuroko Tetsuya was that Ryouta knew the moment he started as a regular and came under his tutelage that Tetsuya was the older one between them.

Of course, the visual illusion was there.  Tetsuya was shorter than him - shorter than everyone, really (except for their captain but the imposing atmosphere around him counteracted his lack of height) - but he was wise beyond his years.  Impossibly patient, seemingly impassive.

He often stayed behind late to practice on his own, sometimes letting Ryouta and Daiki come along.

They met on the courts together and departed for home together, parting long after nightfall following discussions at length about everything they could think of.  Tetsuya would always leave them with a rare but always genuine little smile, as if there was something interesting he couldn’t verbalize before they said their goodbyes.

Ryouta adored him.  That was easy to admit.

He was a good person, the sort who deserved the nickname Ryouta adopted faster for him than anyone else on the team.  He seldom spoke out of turn but never hesitated to give his honest opinion when asked.  Though he looked like the wind could blow him away at any given moment, Tetsuya was perhaps the most resilient of them all, the bravest of them all.

A pure-hearted hero who preferred the shadows to the light.  Ryouta revered him, remained fascinated by him ever since he saw through direct experience how worthy Tetsuya was of his place as a Teikou regular, and at fifteen years old, Kise Ryouta discovered for the first time that storybook heroes existed in real life.

(Nothing, that is, except for the faint stir of envy that fluttered just above his ribcage whenever he watched Daiki and Tetsuya play side by side, shoulder to shoulder, and wondered whose place he longed to replace.)

 

* * *

 

Rainy days were the worst.

Ryouta never particularly liked them and he had no intention of starting anytime soon.  On top of the moisture being hell on his hair, everything just seemed slower on days like those.  Time seemed suspended to a slow crawl, minutes and hours clinging to the momentum like a snail drenched in molasses, drifting words slugging like the drops of moisture dripping from the classroom windowsill and slipping down, down, down to the ground below. 

Yes, Kise Ryouta did not like rainy days, not one bit.

That is, up until one late August afternoon when he forgot his umbrella at home and - since their houses were in the same direction and they had fallen into a pattern of walking home together every Saturday - Daiki offered to share his and everything changed.

The funny thing about Tetsuya was that he had an uncanny ability to bring people together.  Whether as a common subject of conversation or indirectly starting a routine that neither Daiki or Ryouta were keen on breaking, the blue-haired teen was as much a constant presence in their lives as the sky hanging overhead.  No matter the weather, Tetsuya never seemed to be far, watching over them much like the seraphim Ryouta likened him to.

“He’s such a brat sometimes,” Daiki groused, tone unmistakeable for anything but affection.  “Surprised we haven’t gotten tired of each other yet, playing basketball as much as we have.”

“Kurokocchi would probably get tired of you before you got tired of him,” Ryouta nudged Daiki’s side and earned himself a vague smirk and a sage ruffling of his hair in retaliation.

“And anyway, we’ll all get tired of each other eventually.”  Ryouta chuckled, wan grin joined by a bitter laugh.  “That’s just the reality of things.  How people are.”

When Daiki stopped in his tracks and pull him back by his wrist hard enough to hurt, Ryouta would have tripped if he hadn’t regained balance at the last possible moment, nose landing in the cleft of Daiki’s shoulder instead. 

“Jeez,” the blond sighed, still reeling from the sudden movement as he slowly raised his head, “what was that about?  You could’ve at least given me a warning, Aominecchi—!”

The hand that held his wrist (the same hand that clung to a basketball like it was his lifeline, the same hand that reached out to others more than he’d care to admit, the same hand that helped Ryouta stand more times than he could count) retreated before coming to rest against his cheek, the other pulling him forward, forward, _forward_ until forms were pressed flush and Daiki’s lips were held firm against his and the umbrella fell forgotten to the wet pavement.

“That **was** your warning,” mumbled Daiki after they both pulled apart; in the dim streetlight’s glow, Ryouta realized that no amount of tanned skin could hide how flustered he was, brow furrowed and fingers dancing idly against the blond’s disheveled collar.  “So that the next time you say stuff like that, you’ll think it through beforehand.”

“If it means you’ll kiss me again,” Ryouta chimed, thinking of the hundreds of times he stole glances at the other boy across the court and wondering just how many of those instances Daiki had noticed - or, perhaps, watched him when Ryouta wasn’t looking, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear anything.”

“Why bother,” the syllables enunciated in a low drawl against the silver stud adorning his sensitive earlobe, “when I was gonna kiss you again, anyway?”

The rain came down in rivulets after that, the brief drizzle spell giving way to sheets upon sheets.

(But for the first time in fifteen years, with a pair of arms wrapped warm around his waist and a mouthful of Daiki, Ryouta decided that maybe he could come to like rainy days.)

 

* * *

 

“Kise-kun,” Tetsuya began in that near whisper of a voice as they walked down the corridor twenty minutes before their final match of their last tournament together as junior high students.  “I realize this isn’t the best time, but I have a confession to make.”

The blond blinked fast, inquiring the smaller teen’s word choice.  “Confession?”

“It won’t take long,” Tetsuya went on, the ghost of a frown evident on his face.  “It’s about Aomine-kun.”

That got Ryouta’s attention. He turned on his heel, careful not to step back too quickly and bump into the other boy.

“Okay,” Ryouta sighed, “what did Aominecchi say this time?”

Even after he and Daiki crossed the line from a platonic to a romantic relationship, Tetsuya was a constant presence in their lives.  Naturally, as he was Daiki’s ‘shadow’ and basketball partner - and Ryouta’s teammate and friend. He was the buffer that brought them together in the first place, as he found out when Tetsuya approached him (much like the way he had now) and told him outright that he encouraged Daiki to come clean about his feelings for Ryouta in the first place.  Whatever lingering jealousy Ryouta had over Tetsuya had all but vanished, replaced by a growing respect and gratefulness in knowing they had a friend in him.

For nearly five months, five happy and absolutely blissful months, Ryouta was happy.  Happy with Daiki, happy to play beside the other regulars - stronger than ever with each victory, individually and as a team, the Generation of Miracles deserved the prestigious title - happier than ever with himself and the people around him he held near and dear.

But since this month began, a growing discontent settled within their ranks, upsetting the balance of everyone involved.

“He didn’t say anything.”  And that was the problem, Ryouta knew, these days with Daiki.  In spite of all the headway they had made together, he and Tetsuya knew full well why Daiki had been acting strange lately.  “It wasn’t anything he did, either.”

“There goes my next question, then.”  Ryouta let out a slight chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to another.  “So how many more guesses do I get until the grand prize turns into a consolation prize?”

At first, it was the passing remarks Daiki made at practice.

He needed more time to practice alone.  He needed less of the second string regulars crowding them and cramping their style - his style, he corrected himself, when asked for clarification.  The ordinarily carefree and childlike Daiki was growing, Tetsuya was the first to take notice (a bit of a sting to Ryouta’s ego, really, since he thought he knew Daiki better than that after several months of dating) of the subtle changes, but no one could pin down the impetus of the slow but inevitable transformation.

They all knew the indisputable fact of it, though: that, at this point, there was nothing they could do to reverse the shift in Daiki’s mentality and abilities improving faster than anyone anticipated.

“It’s hard to explain,” said Tetsuya at length.  “I wish there were an easier way of saying this without causing…trouble.”

A cold shiver ran through him as a thought floated to the forefront of his conscience.

“Kurokocchi…could it be…you fell in love with me?!”  The high-pitched squawk echoed in the silent halls, exaggerated gestures added for comedic impact.  Anything to raise the mood a bit, right?

“…Not in the least.”  And just like that, the joke fell flat.  Kise groaned, burying his face in his palm while trying not to laugh at the complete deadpan expression on Tetsuya’s face.  “You really shouldn’t be joking at a time like this, Kise-kun.”

“I know, I know,” was Ryouta’s sheepish reply.  “But you seemed pretty upset, Kurokocchi.  I was hoping a little silliness could cheer you up.”  He gave Tetsuya’s small shoulders a gentle pat, hoping his gaze could convey his genuine apology for teasing the older boy a bit.  “So what is it, then?  Just come out and say it before we run out of time to meet up with the others.”

“Ki-chan, Tetsu-kun!”  As if on cue, Satsuki dashed around the corner with all her usual enthusiasm, nearly crashing into poor Tetsuya when she reached them.  “Five more minutes left before we’re on!  Did you both go somewhere to warm up or what?”

“Sorry, Momocchi.”  It was as good an excuse as any, Ryouta figured after hearing the unspoken suggestion in Satsuki’s voice, and held his palm in a grand show for forgiveness.  “Tell coach we’ll be there in a minute!”

After their manager gave a small nod (and at last let go of Tetsuya, who looked more than a bit rattled - understandable, considering how his flow of oxygen was interrupted by that particularly smothering good-luck hug before), she departed to let the two boys finish their talk.

When Tetsuya started on his way down the corridor again without another word, Ryouta followed close behind, a realization suddenly reaching him in the wake of silence.

“Kurokocchi?”  Inhale and exhale, Ryouta reminded himself, old insecurities rearing their ugly heads in the muddled sea of possible counterattacks to Tetsuya’s inevitable response.  “I know you just see me as a friend, but I’ve been thinking.  That ‘confession’ you were talking about…”

(He shut his eyes to it for awhile, content to believe it was just his imagination; he pretended not to notice it, the wandering gazes and wavering promises, the period of cold affronts to every suggestion to a weekend date that coincided with the time just after Tetsuya and Daiki got into that awful argument one afternoon during practice about passing to other teammates, the argument that ended in Tetsuya with a welling bruise on his cheek and Daiki storming out of the gym and everyone in the first string struggling to find the right words - including Ryouta, who couldn’t even find the strength to move, let alone run after his boyfriend and offer reassurance he knew he didn’t have.)

“Did you ever,” Ryouta asked, struggling to breathe as the impassive sheen over Tetsuya’s bright blue eyes  “like Aominecchi as more than a friend?  Even before you told him to ask me out?”

As soon as it happened, Ryouta had a revelation like none other strike him with the force of a thousand raging storm waves.

That smile he had seen on the countless sunset-lined evenings on the road back home - when it was the three of them, sharing popsicles and inside jokes and stupid stories; he finally,  **finally** understood  - was impossible to read back then because he had no idea what it meant.

But he knew what it meant now, knew why Tetsuya always walked up his front doorstep with that world-weary, wizened smile.

“We only have three more minutes to meet the others,” were the very last words of their very last conversation as teammates - though Ryouta had no inkling of it at the time, had no idea how much Tetsuya yearned to break away from it all and fly free even then - the little shadow’s sidelong glance over his shoulder as he broke into a slow jog down the foyer.  “Let’s go, Kise-kun.”

(At age fifteen and at that exact moment in time, Kise Ryouta learned more about selfishness and selflessness than he ever had in his entire life.)

 

* * *

 

A year older and a year wiser, Kise Ryouta found himself in the middle of a war with himself.

The troops, his teammates, lined up behind him, ready to assist and defend.  The opposing team were tenacious, unrelenting, switching from offense to defense at the drop of a hat.

He could sense a change in the air - resonating with the crowd of people in the stands, holding them enraptured to the action on the courts below - and Kise exhaled.

Inhale, exhale.  Coaching himself over the years took time, discipline, and dedication, but he found ways of keeping his darker sides under wraps, discovered how to withhold emotion in a game and push aside his Achilles’ heel, his inferiority complex.

In front of him was a stranger.

Once upon a time, he (thought he) knew this young man better than anyone else, venerated him, put him on a pedestal because of who he appeared to be.  Aomine Daiki was the reason he started playing basketball, the reason he strove for something greater than himself, the guiding force behind his every action and the impetus for learning everything he had.   That was an indelible truth, a part of him that could never be replaced.

But the person in front of him - the wild beast who didn’t hesitate in bearing his fangs at his former partner, his rivals, and even his (former) teammates without hesitation - was no longer the person he admired, who he loved.

_I’ll quit admiring you._

They were like lightning and rain, two inexorably intertwined elements often thought of as one.  Their kind of love held within it a passion flashed against the backdrop of a light gray sky, fleeting but brilliant.

On the surface, they were far from a perfect match - two opposing forces, rivals for the common onlooker’s attention. Yet few saw the Kise Ryouta away from the camera’s lens or the Aomine Daiki away from the courts, purposeful clouds laid out to mask their true natures.

So as wonderful and accommodating as his teammates at Kaijou were - as good as Kasamatsu-senpai, in particular, was to him - they didn’t quite understand why Ryouta needed to do this.  Why he wanted do this.

But there was one person in the stands watching now that understood, Ryouta knew.

There was one person who knew how he felt right now, who had gone through the same struggle and more and who changed for the better because of it.  There was one person watching him now who had unlocked his own cage to take off and fly, who was just beginning to learn how to use his wings again.  One person who had found a new source of light ( _Kagamicchi_ , Ryouta thought with a fleeting but fond smile, was the perfect match for him, in ways that perhaps neither of them had yet to realize) and, like a young sprouting of a flowering plant who had finally gotten the nourishment and support system it needed, made Kise Ryouta realize at sixteen years old exactly what he was living for.

People change, people stay and go astray - and it’s no one’s fault, not really.  But the funny thing about life was that it had an unusual way of showing you what matters most, sometimes in the least expected of ways.

Tetsuya (his little angel, his little hero, the shadow that cast a light in the dark) had realized it long ago.  Ryouta had only just come to realize it himself.

And now, it was time for him to return the favor by giving Daiki a reason to change for no one else’s sake but his own - because giving up in this war between them was the last thing on his mind.


End file.
